


All My Pieces

by DivisionOfUniverses



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background klance because it's adorable, Gen, Keith is new, Lance and Hunk are the Bros, Mild Angst, Pidge is a painter, Rated teen for language, She has family problems, also humor?, alternately titled: The road trip from pidge's nightmares, because I love Pidge, but with emotions too, first person POV, multiple shenanigans, not relationship focused, pidge is so done, pidge's pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivisionOfUniverses/pseuds/DivisionOfUniverses
Summary: Katie Holt, also known as Pidge, has problems. For example, her friends keep asking her for relationship advice (as if she knows beans about relationships). Summer is hot and nature is everywhere. And she can't figure out what to do with the giant canvas she bought.Not to mention her family members are all either missing or dead.To combat the suffocating heat and feelings of abandonment, Pidge decides it's time for some change. And, with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of sarcasm, things might work out.That is, if Lance and Keith don't kill each other first.





	All My Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what, people? I have fallen deep into Voltron hell. Pidge is awesome and needs more appreciation, and I like to write my feelings, so this is the result. Welcome to a lovely mess of Artist Pidge and Lance of the Relationship Problems.

      There I was, sitting at the worn wooden table taking up most of the kitchen. Headphones in, music blasting, I stared in silent frustration at the clock on the wall. For _two hours_ I had been slumped there, but nope. No inspiration. Not even a little bit. The blank paint canvas leaned against a corner of the room, gathering dust. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window over the sink. Next door, I could hear the steady thrum of a lawnmower. It would have been so normal, so deliciously normal, if I hadn't been alone. If I couldn't feel the emptiness of the house pressing down on me.

      On a whim, I had used some of my precious spending money to buy a secondhand canvas. It was impractically large, but it had been too good of a deal to pass up. I had found it in the back of a junk barn with one corner dented. I decided to purchase it anyway, and incorporate the dent into the designs. No, I didn't need it, but I wanted a distraction. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, however, the white monster (as I started to refer to it) leered at me from its corner. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't think of the right thing to fill its vast surface with. It just sat there and taunted me with its emptiness.

      I chided myself internally for making such a ridiculous decision. There were better things to do with my time, like...something worthwhile. An activity that didn't involve sitting in a chair and staring at nothing, at least. Now that I was on summer vacation, there was little reason to leave the house. School was too easy, but it was a welcome diversion from my monotone existence. During the sweltering months of June, July, and August, I rarely went outside, except the occasional runs to Food Lion for more microwave burritos and Gatorade.

      With a sigh, I pulled off my headphones and pushed my chair back, scraping against the linoleum. I trudged to the fridge. The shelves held a few cups of yogurt and a carton of eggs; neither felt appetizing at the moment. I let the door fall shut and flicked the overhead light on to combat the growing shadows. Mom and Dad's former retirement fund had paid the bills so far, but I still tried to conserve electricity as much as possible.

      I opened a cupboard and took down a box of cereal. _Lucky Charms it is._

      A sharp rapping came from the window. Lance grinned at me through the panes, waving one long-fingered hand. I rolled my eyes and leaned over to unlock the latch, allowing him to open the window and climb inside.

    "Have you heard of this magnificent invention called a _door_? You should try using one sometime." I stood on the tips of my toes to grab a bowl down from the cupboard.

     "It's more fun this way. Kind of like we're in some sort of movie." Lance propped himself against my counter, his fingertips drumming lightly on the wood. Always full of energy, that one.

      "What type of movies do you watch?" Lance shrugged and reached for the cereal. I swatted him away, poured myself a bowl, then handed him the box.

      I hunted in the fridge for milk while Lance crunched on dry cereal straight from the container. "So, what's new with you?"

      "Nothing. Just the same old stuff," I said, giving up on the milk and grabbing a jug of OJ. "Brother still gone. Painting still not working. Everything's just _fine._ "

      I could practically feel Lance frown behind my back. "He still hasn't messaged you?"

      "It's been nearly six months, Lance. I don't think he's going to."

      Obviously, all was not well in the Holt household. Lance and Hunk sympathized, but they didn't really understand. How could they? They both still had families to fill all the empty spaces of their lives.

      I turned back toward Lance and poured orange juice over my Charms. It wasn't ideal, but it didn't taste horrible. Not if I ate it fast enough.

      I arched an eyebrow at the familiar glint in my friend's eyes. He was as easy to read as usual. The edges of his mouth twitched, as if he was fighting a smile. His body seemed to buzz with excitement. _Ah, typical. He's met someone._

      Clearly, Lance was going to burst if he didn't get to talk, so I resigned myself to hearing all the details about this new person. "Okay. What's new with _you_?"

      A wide grin split Lance's face. "Well, you know how I work part-time at Allura's Ice Cream Parlor?" He continued before I had a chance to respond. "So today this guy comes in, and _holy shit_ , Pidge, is he a character. Got the whole jacket-slash-bike gloves-slash-dark hair thing going on. He looks totally edgy, but get this, he orders vanilla. Vanilla! Not even with sprinkles or anything. It was really cute."

      I chewed my cereal slowly, listening as Lance babbled on about this secretly softhearted guy. Apparently he had pretty hair. And pretty eyes. And pretty yada yada yada... 

      "Sooo, did you happen to catch his name?" I interrupted. Lance hesitated.

      "Uh...no."

      Typical.

      "I'm sure your mystery vanilla man will be back," I said. Lance perked up again.

      "Yeah! Maybe I can get his number next time.''

      I snatched the box of cereal back before he could eat it all. "You do that."

      ''I'd probably better go home now," Lance said, looking out of the window into the evening. "Hunk says he'll try to come by tomorrow and bring food." He crawled headfirst out of the window, landing with a thud in the flowerbed. "See ya."

      "See ya," I muttered to a vacant room.

*_. * ._*

      Almost a year and a half ago, my dad vanished. One morning he was here, burning the toast and grinding coffee, then he never came home from work that evening. In fact, he didn't even arrive there in the first place. The police investigated, of course, but in the end nothing was ever found. And everything went downhill from there.

      My mom tried to be strong for her kids, she really did. It was a hopeless attempt. Not six months later she died in her sleep. Apparently she just wasted away, lost the will to live and all that. Grief can do that to a person.

     She'd never been the picture of health anyway... My dad's disappearance just pushed her over the edge. It pushed us all over the edge in one way or another. For a while Matt, my older brother, took care of us both. He got me to school on time, worked part-time at the Garrison Institute of Aeronautics, and managed to sneak in a few college classes on the side. Of course we were both reeling at the loss of both our parents at once, but we held each other together.

      Then Matt disappeared, too. I didn't report anything. If I had, I would probably have been stuck in some grimy foster home with bedwetters and caretakers who smell like cats. It would have been goodbye friends, goodbye house, goodbye any hope of seeing my family again.

      I decided I was _never_ going to let them take me away.

      One thing I found suspicious was that the Garrison never called to ask about Matt-or my dad, for that matter. If I ran a big ol' corporation and two of my employees went AWOL out of nowhere, I would want an explanation. But there hasn't been any sort of contact so far.

      So, I pretended everything was normal. I went to school. I hung out with Lance and Hunk, at first. They found out eventually and wanted to tell someone, but I begged them to keep quiet. They did, bless them.

      I made do the best I could.

*_. * ._*

      After Lance left, I dumped my cereal in the sink, closed the window with a creak, and headed upstairs to the loft. Located in the spacious attic that took up the third floor, it was where I painted. And, lately, where I slept. I'd dragged my old sleeping bag and a pillow up there. 

      I ignored the closed doors on the second floor. I had poked around after Matt disappeared, looking for any sort of clue, but I hadn't found a thing.

      The loft was open and airy, with a few wide windows and blank white walls. They were blank except for canvasses of various size, splattered angrily with bright paints. Mostly deep, rich reds and blacks. Dark and gloomy colors for a dark and gloomy orphan. Several mismatched easels scattered the floor, along with my computers.

      Despite being the most lived-in room of the house, my loft was still covered in a thin layer of dust. I couldn't muster the energy to clean the cobwebs from the ceiling.

      "One of these days I should probably clean this place," I muttered, cocooning myself up in my sleeping bag with my headphones. "Eh...I'll get around to it eventually."

      I took off Matt's old glasses and placed them carefully beside me. They'd been sitting on his bedside table the day I opened his door to find no one there. My vision was perfectly fine; I just wore them to remind me of my brother.

      The sky outside gradually faded to black. I gradually faded into a fitful sleep.

      Morning sunlight was disgustingly bright on my face when I woke the next day. I stifled a curse and untangled myself from the sleeping bag, blinking blearily. I stumbled downstairs to brush my teeth. Matt's glasses were clutched in my fist.

      I regarded my reflection in the mirror, wondering briefly about how others saw me. Baggy clothes, short and skinny as a twig, hair chopped short with a pair of sewing scissors. Absolutely no girly curves to speak of. After Mom died, I had decided to cut my long hair off. I looked too much like her. Now I regretted it, because I looked too much like Matt.

      I pulled a comb through my tangled frizz and scrubbed my teeth for a few minutes, then slipped on the glasses and walked to the kitchen. I pointedly ignored the white monster. _Gah, it's stuffy in here,_ I thought, opening the window as wide as it would go. Luckily, there was no sign of Lance in the dewy grass outside. Leaving the window open, I grabbed a breakfast bar and walked out of the house, stopping only to tug on my sneakers.

      Immediately after turning the street corner, I began to rethink my decision. It was still early in the morning, but heat was already beginning to scorch the pavement. I scowled. _Great thinking, Pidge. Now I may melt into the sidewalk, but hey, at least I'm getting out of the house!_

      This little stroll wasn't planned. I just needed to be somewhere else, and the places to go were limited at best. So, I continued down the block, past cookie-cutter suburban houses placed neatly on their emerald lawns. It was a perfect day, with pretty blue skies and all that. I hated it.

      I pushed the crumpled food bar wrapper into my pocket and strolled around the corner. I decided that, as long as I was out, I might as well go see Hunk. He'd been busy working at his mom's bakery and hadn't stopped by to chat in a while. A summer job would have helped me a lot, but those type of things generally require the meeting of parents, so it was a no for me. At least I had more time to paint.

      Lance and Hunk lived right next door to each other, the lucky bastards. I also knew for a fact that, when Lance was ten, he begged his mom to switch his room so he and Hunk could have windows facing each other. Being the mama's boy he is, Lance got his way.

      I trudged up the path to Hunk's front door and rang the bell. His mom was probably at the bakery already, and his other mom (a.k.a. The Madre) was an engineer who seemed to be _always_ working, so no hope of them answering. I waiting for a few minutes, wilting in the heat, before cutting across the grass to the McClains' house. If Hunk wasn't at his house, then he was at Lance's. Or the bakery. Or at his mom's office tinkering with machines, but I didn't feel like trekking all over town.

      Lance's mom opened the door when I knocked. Even with a few small children hanging off her, she still managed a smile in my direction. "Hi, Katie! What can I do for you?"

      "Hey, Mrs. McClain. Are Lance and Hunk here?"

      She shook her head. "I think they went down to Allura's."

       "Okay. Thank you," I said, waving at the kids as I walked off. As soon as Mrs. McClain closed the door, however, I cursed the two boys internally. If they had gone to the ice cream parlor, that could only mean one thing. I was not in the mood for Lance's flirting.

      Nevertheless, I began the walk to the parlor. _Don't be negative, Pidge. Maybe it'll be fun._ Even my thoughts didn't sound convincing.

      After what seemed like an endless stretch of heat-blistered walking, I saw the pastel colors of the awning. I ducked through the door, sighing happily as the AC hit. Whoever invented air conditioning was a saint.

      "Hello there, Pidge," Allura said chipperly from behind the register. She looked perfect as always. I immediately felt like a sweaty gremlin that had invaded a land of ice cream and pale pink.

      "Uh, hi," I responded awkwardly. "Is Lance here?"   

      "No, he's not working today. Why do you ask?"

      "Oh. His mom just told me he was here, so..." My eyes narrowed in suspicion. I peered over my shoulder, scanning the street for any sign of the guys.

      Allura's Ice Cream Parlor was one of a few other shops sitting opposite a small park. Across the road, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the bushes. _Typical._

      "Found them," I muttered. "Thanks anyway, Allura," I called over my shoulder, hurrying out the door. The bell tinkled behind me.

      I marched across the street, glasses sliding down the sweat on my nose. As I had suspected, Lance and Hunk were crouched in the undergrowth, watching the parlor's doors intently. Hunk waved at me as I approached.

      "What. Are. You doing?'' I asked skeptically.

      "Shhh, Pidge! You'll blow our cover." Lance was holding his cat, for some reason. Blue looked extremely close to scratching us all and making a run for it.

      I resigned myself to sitting in what was probably poison oak and hunkered down beside them. "Move over and answer the question."

      Hunk giggled. "We're watching the parlor for Lance's Vanilla Emo guy. Lance is gonna use his cat to seduce him."

      "What?"

      Lance's cheeks turned red. "Shut _up,_ Hunk. Chicks dig cute animals, and Blue's the cutest of them all." He scratched her head. "Aren't you, gorgeous?"

      "I think there's a difference between 'chicks' and an emo vanilla guy," I said.

      Hunk cleared his throat. "Actually, it's Vanilla Emo guy."

      "Hunk, I'm your friend, and as your friend I have to be honest with you." I paused. " _I don't care._ "

      Lance ignored both of us. "C'mon, where are you..." he muttered.

      "Does your mother know Blue's out here?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

      "Nah. We snuck her out the window."

      Minutes ticked by in silence. I began questioning why I had even gotten out of bed that morning. Hunk's stomach growled.

      Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "Are we going to wait here all day or what?"

      Lance pouted. "Just give it a few more minutes! I know he's coming back."

      I opened my mouth to say something snarky, but something stopped me. Normally Lance was full of confidence, practically flirting with every girl that walked by our school lunch table-and a few of the boys, too. Now he seemed...almost nervous?

      Hunk suddenly elbowed me in the side, almost bowling me over. I rubbed my probably-bruised ribs. "Ow. What?"

      Someone was walking up the sidewalk on the other side of the street. I peeked through the leaves at the new arrival. Red jacket-check. Gloves-check. Dark hair-check. It was definitely the mystery guy.

      I snickered. "Didn't that haircut go out of style in, like, the nineties?"

      "Like you're one to judge, Dandelion," Lance shot back. He checked his hair in his phone's camera. "Here goes- ouch!"

      Blue had clawed her way out of Lance's arms and was scrambling over his shoulder. Hunk attempted to catch her, missed, and got my head instead. We went down. Lance attempted to grab the cat, cursing all the while. Blue had other plans and dashed toward the street as I tried to untangle myself from Hunk.

      "Get off!''

      "I'm trying!"

      Lance lunged for his cat. "She's heading for traffic!" He fell out of the bushes gracelessly and leaped after Blue. I shoved Hunk away.

      Blue streaked across the street toward the ice cream parlor. Lance ran behind her. "Blue, no! Stop! Bad kitty!"

      "Hey!'' I yelled at him. "Watch out for the-" Lance tripped over the curb, stumbled, flailed, and fell- right in front of mullet boy.

      "-curb." I finished.

      Hunk groaned sympathetically. I got out my phone and snapped a picture, then winced with the appropriate level of secondhand embarrassment.

      _Typical._

"Wow," I muttered. "That went well."

      Hunk burst out of the bushes. "Blue, come back!" He looked at me. "We've gotta catch her before she gets hurt!''

      "You know, we wouldn't even be in this scenario if you two hadn't come up with such an idiotic plan," I grumbled, getting up and brushing dirt from my cutoffs.

       Lance was still sprawled on the sidewalk when we got there. Mullet boy looked up at us. "Uh...is he okay?"

      "Mentally or physically?" I deadpanned. Hunk stepped in front of me.

      "He's good. Did you, by any chance, happen to see a cat run by? About this big, grayish blue?" Hunk twiddled his thumbs nervously.

      The parlor's door bell tinkled, and Allura pushed her way outside. "Lance, why is your cat in my nice, clean-" She paused, seeing Lance's limp form. "What's going on here?"

      I shoved Hunk aside and took Blue from Allura. "Don't worry. We're doing a school project."

      "Ah, I see. Have fun then." Allura went back inside, apparently not realizing that it was summer and there was no school to speak of.

       I grinned smugly. "Works every time."

      Mullet boy glanced between the three of us. Poor soul looked slightly alarmed. "I'll...just go, then. Sorry to bother you..." He took a few steps backward before hurrying away.

      Lance groaned. "Damn it."

      I took another picture. "Well, if we're all sufficiently humiliated here, I'm going to take the cat home. She's caused enough mischief."

      Hunk hauled Lance up by his armpits. "Better luck next time, bud."

      Lance pouted and pulled Blue out of my hands. _Uh-huh. There it is: the rejected face._

      Despite his bravado, Lance was easily discouraged. I wasn't very skilled in cheering people up, so Hunk usually took the job.

      "Come on, guys. Lance, let's see if your mom will make us food. That black beans and rice dish she makes is to die for." Hunk prattled on about spices as we headed off down the street. I glanced in the direction Mullet Boy went. _Now that was a face that practically begs to be painted._

      I voiced my thoughts. "He had nice eyebrows. I gotta hand it to you, Lance. You picked a very aesthetically pleasing guy to wipe out in front of."

      He groaned again. "I _know._ "

      I opened my mouth to say something witty, then paused as we passed a recruitment poster for the Garrison. _"_ _Pushing the Limits of what Humanity Can Do",_ it boasted.

      _Push the limits, huh._

      In the back of my mind, an inkling of an idea began to form.

*_. * ._*

      That afternoon, sufficiently stuffed with Mrs. McClain's home cooking, I stood at the top of the stairs leading to my basement. The space had doubled as my dad's office, but I'd never stepped foot inside. There hadn't been many rules in the Holt household, but this one had been a biggie: no one goes in the office except Dad. Any entrance by a child was strictly forbidden.

      Now I was about to bust in there and do some serious poking around. It was the best chance I had to find out how and why my dad had vanished- and why the Garrison had never come asking where he was. Was I crazy? Probably. Luckily, I'd always had a bit of a nosy streak. 

      I jiggled the doorknob, just in case life wanted to be easy for a change. The door was locked.  _Typical._ I hurried up the stairs to the second floor, pausing in front of Matt's door. The surface was plastered with fading posters and drawings, mostly centered around space or robots. My stomach twisted into an unpleasant knot. 

       _Deep breaths, Pidge._ I carefully turned the knob and let myself into the room, waving away the dust that billowed up from the carpet. Matt had a lock-picking kit stored in his underwear drawer. I'd never messed with it because I hadn't needed it, and, frankly, because I didn't feel like hunting through my brother's old boxers. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were certainly desperate times. 

      What I should have done was simple: get in, get the picks, get out. Instead I hovered by Matt's dresser, looking at trinkets and figurines he'd collected over the years. There was a huge, intricate Lego Star Wars set that he had been particularly proud of. I'd pouted while he assembled the blocks until he invited me to help, and of course we spent the entire afternoon sprawled on his floor. We were the epitome of Nerd Siblings. 

       _That's right,_ whispered a nasty voice in the back of my mind.  _You **were.**_

      Matt always got so annoyed when I called his things figurines...

      I ripped my eyes away from the dusty toys, digging my fingernails into my palms until tiny half-moons of blood popped up. Then I wiped my hands on my shorts, yanked open the bottom drawer, shoved some briefs aside, and grabbed the bag. My brother was never very good at hiding things. 

      I kicked the drawer shut and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind me. I ground my teeth together and told myself to stop being so emotional. As if  _that_ would work.

      "God  _damn it!_ " I meant to growl, but the words came out as more of a whimper. "I'm gonna get you back, Matt. You and Dad just wait. I...I'm gonna..."

       _You're going to do what, exactly?_ It was that stupid voice again.  _How are you, a scrawny teenage girl with barely any talent, going to get your family back? Who do you think you are?_

I pushed the nagging thoughts to a corner of my brain and tried to ignore them. "Alright, bitch, time to get down to business.  _Let's go._ "

      I stomped down the stairs to the basement door, muttering. "Did I just call myself a bitch? Well, whatever. It worked."

       _Talking to yourself, one of the first signs of madness,_ I thought.  _How lovely._

      I sifted through the small cloth bag, looking for the right tools. Lock picking was pretty easy. I had taught myself by watching a few YouTube videos and then figuring the rest out as I practiced. Plus, the lock on the basement door was ridiculously simple. A toddler could have cracked it. 

      The door swung open after half a minute of tinkering. I put the picks back in the bag carefully, then slipped it into my pocket. After locating a light switch on the stairwell, I flipped it on and descended into the office.

      The room I was in obviously hadn't been touched in a long time. The strip lights on the ceiling flickered, the carpet smelled musty, and every surface was drenched in dust. Worst of all, my dad's presence was everywhere. A line of empty mugs sat forgotten on a desk; a filing cabinet had magnets from science museums stuck on it. I bit my lip and ventured farther inside, brushing off the chair in front of the desk. It still sent up a little cloud of dust when I plopped down in it.

      I looked around at all my dad's technology. _This is some serious hardware,_ I thought with satisfaction. Finally, a bit of luck.

      I booted up the main computer, smiling when the screen blinked to life. Now _this_ was something I knew how to do. If it ran on a power source and had some sort of screen, I could figure it out. Hacking wasn't a hobby my mother had particularly approved of, but it was a passion of mine.

      Oddly enough, my dad's computer wasn't password-protected. I frowned slightly. My dad had always been a rather private man, so this didn't add up...unless there was something he wanted found.

      I hunted through his work files, looking for anything out of the ordinary. No luck. Everything seemed normal- _wait._

      A certain untitled folder caught my eye. It was almost buried within all the other information, and, when I selected it, a password requirement popped up. I could work around that, but it would take less time if I could figure out the code. Every minute counted.

      I tried my birthday. The screen flashed red. _Okay, not that one._

      I tried Matt's birthday. The screen flashed red again.

      I tried my mom's birthday. It didn't work either.

      I sighed internally, then tried Spock's birthday. Unsurprisingly, the folder opened.

      This was hardly a victory, however, because the entire thing was under an encryption. I huffed in annoyance. _You couldn't make this easy for me, huh, Dad?_  

      After a quick sprint upstairs for my own computer, I began to run the folder through a program of my own design to decode it. Now I just had to wait for it to finish.

      I sketched absentmindedly with a pen and a scrap piece of paper for a few minutes, then checked the download. _Jackpot!_

      Once the files were all transferred to my laptop, I dashed upstairs to the loft, not even bothering to relock the basement door. I sat cross-legged on my sleeping bag and adjusted my glasses, eager to see why this folder had been so camouflaged.

      The folder contained a series of documents and emails dating back to four months before my dad disappeared. If I remembered correctly, he had started staying later and later at work around that time. He came home looking worried a lot, too, and stopped telling us what new things his division was working on. I had been a little concerned, but had dismissed it as mere stress on my dad's part.

      I felt incredibly stupid about that now.

      The first email was addressed to my dad, sent from someone who was probably his boss. I scrolled through it, my eyebrows furrowing as I read.

      _What the fuck??_    

     

 

       

 

     

     

            

 

 

           


End file.
